


A Supernatural Excursion (1/1)

by earlgreytea68



Series: Chaosverse [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-08
Updated: 2009-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten and Rose and Sam and Dean cross paths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Supernatural Excursion (1/1)

**Author's Note:**

> For your first post-Support-Stacie fic, I bring you a gift for Kristin. Kristin is an SPN devotee, and she asked me for a crossover fic long, long ago. Her birthday is, um, April 1, but we'll pretend this is more timely gift than that. SURPRISE, KRISTIN!!!! Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> For the SPN devotees on my f-list, I watch the show, but Sam and Dean aren't my characters, so apologies if it's OOC for them. 
> 
> And for the Chaosverse devotees, this fic actually is Chaosverse compliant; it fits into the very early, pre-kids bit of Chaosverse.   
>    
> Thank you to[](http://jlrpuck.livejournal.com/profile)[ **jlrpuck**](http://jlrpuck.livejournal.com/), for the--as usual--rapid-fire, perfect beta. 

There weren’t many advantages to their lifestyle, but one advantage, Dean Winchester always said, was that they occasionally ran into some pretty damn stunning women.

Like the blonde who was right now sitting at a booth at a grungy diner that looked like every other diner Dean had ever been to. He couldn’t quite recall what town they were in—after a while, they all became pretty nameless and pretty interchangeable—but he thought that this one was distinguished by its quality of blonde.

“Are you paying attention?” Sam asked him.

Dean took his eyes off the blonde for a second. “What? Yeah. Of course.”

“What did I just say?”

“You said, ‘Are you paying attention?’”

“Dean—” Sam complained.

“Where do you think she’s from?” Dean nodded toward the blonde. “Because she doesn’t look like she’s from around here, does she?”

Sam glanced at the woman, then looked back at Dean and lifted his eyebrows. “You think the blonde’s a werewolf?”

“What?” Dean looked disgusted. “No, why would I think that?”

“Because we’re here to catch a werewolf, so I don’t see how the blonde is relevant.”

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Dean decided.

“Dean,” Sam whined, but Dean had already stood up and was heading toward the blonde.

It was possible she wasn’t quite a natural blonde—Dean was sure those were dark roots lurking there in her hair—and she was wearing perhaps a tad too much mascara, but she was still the prettiest thing Dean had seen in a while. Pretty and probably not a demon: two big pluses in Dean’s book.

“Hi,” he said, sliding into the booth opposite her.

She’d been gazing out the window, hands cupped around a mug of coffee, and she looked up at him, a bit startled. “Hi.”

“I’m Dean,” he said, and smiled.

“Oh,” she said, and smiled back.

“Got a name?” he prompted, widening his smile.

She widened her smile in return. “Yup,” she affirmed, and popped the “p” a bit.

She was being coy. Dean decided he liked coy. “Want to share it?” He leaned across the table toward her.

“Rose,” she said.

“That’s a pretty name. So, are you from around here?”

She grinned, a bit of tongue caught between her teeth. Dean had never really seen anyone grin quite like that before. It was sexy as hell. “I was just going to ask you the same question.”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. That accent was definitely not American. “You’re a long way from home.”

“More than you know,” Rose replied.

“How’d you end up…” Dean waved his hand to indicate the diner, the town, possibly the entire country. “Here?”

“Which story do you prefer? Long or short?” asked Rose.

***

He couldn’t leave Rose alone for a second. Even if, by some miracle, she didn’t wander off and get herself into jeopardy, then he found her flirting with the nearest male of the species. The Doctor frowned at the tableau of Rose, in a booth by the window of the diner where he’d left her, coquettishly sipping her coffee and fluttering her eyelashes at some besotted man who was sitting across from her.

He looked in the wrong direction before crossing the street, stepped out into the road, and was almost regenerated by one of those annoyingly huge American pick-up trucks. The driver honked the horn, swerved around him, and leaned out the window to shout an obscenity at him. The Doctor waved a mocking little salute at the man, then continued his journey across the street. He noticed Rose was watching him now; his near-regeneration must have attracted her attention. She waggled her fingers at him in a cute greeting and grinned. The Doctor felt his dimples quirk. Because he was determined to be annoyed, and not find Rose adorable.

The Doctor pushed his way into the diner. The bell above the door jangled. The only other customer in the place glared at him sullenly as he walked in. The Doctor wondered sourly why he wasn’t flirting with Rose, too.

“Here he is,” Rose said, happily, reaching for his hand as he got to her table. The Doctor extracted it from his pocket to intertwine their fingers.

“Here I am,” he agreed, and gave the interloper a hard look.

“Wow,” said the other man, having the temerity not to look the least bit cowed by him. “Rosie was just telling me your whole story. It’s…amazing.”

“Oh, Rosie was, was she?” he said, lifting his eyebrows at Rose.

She winked at him.

“So. Do you mind me showing me?”

The Doctor looked at the man blankly. “Show you what?”

“You know.” The man made an imprecise gesture.

The Doctor hadn’t the faintest clue what he was talking about. “No,” he answered, shortly. “Is there a reason you’re at _Rosie_ ’s table?”

“Uh, no, no,” answered the man. “Really, we were just, uh, chatting.”

“Uh-huh,” responded the Doctor.

“Come on,” said Rose, dropping a couple of the American dollars he’d given her on the table and sliding out of the booth. “We should get going. Nice meeting you, Dean.”

“Yeah,” said the man who was apparently called Dean.

Rose, hand firmly caught in his, led him out of the diner. The lone other customer—aside from Dean—watched them the entire way.

“What did you tell him?” the Doctor asked.

“That you’re the last member of an advanced alien species and you and I shag our way through time and space.”

“And I suppose he wanted to see the TARDIS?”

“No, your second penis,” said Rose. “I told him you had two penises.”

The Doctor abruptly stopped walking. “Rose,” he said.

“Is that the plural of ‘penis’? Sounds funny.” She looked at his face. “Oh, don’t be silly. Of course I didn’t tell him the _truth_. I told him you were a highly talented doctor who used to be a plastic surgeon to the Russian mafia, until you were caught in the middle of a gunfight and realized you should be using your skills for good. So you and I travel the world helping those in need.”

The Doctor considered. “Good story,” he decided. “So what did he want to see?”

“I told him the bullet was still lodged in your chest. They couldn’t remove it without killing you. You can see the outline of it. Right here.” She reached forward, laying her hand just above his left heart, gazing at him solemnly. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Rose Tyler,” he said. “You are…” He searched his considerable vocabulary for a suitable adjective and came up empty. “Quite something,” he finished. He resumed walking hand-in-hand with her at a more leisurely pace, in the direction they had parked the TARDIS.

“Well,” she said, “serves you right for going off and leaving me alone while you had all the fun.”

“I told you,” he reminded her, “you have something of the wolf about you, and I didn’t want to tip the lupine-wavelength haemovariform off.”

“What’d you find out?”

The Doctor sighed. “You have a _lot_ of the wolf about you. I think he’s already been tipped off.”

“Which means he’ll be harder to find tomorrow night.”

“Exactly. But what do we live for if not a challenge, right?” He looked at her and grinned.

“You,” she said, “were irrationally jealous.”

He frowned at the topic change. “Was not. Of who?”

She smiled knowingly. “Dean. When you stepped out into the road and nearly got regenerated.”

“Welllllll, you were…fluttering your eyelashes about, and you know how that…butters parsnips.”

“How it what?” she asked, sounding amused.

“I wasn’t _jealous_. What, you think now we’re shagging I’m going to be so possessive and unreasonable that you can’t even talk to another man?”

“I’m hoping not,” she told him, no hint of a smile now. “Because we’d have to have a very serious discussion, you and I, if that was the case.”

He sighed and watched his Chucks kick up some of the dust on the sidewalk. “I’m over 900 years old and a Time Lord and this is still all very new. Forgive me if sometimes I think you might want someone closer to your own age…and species.”

She tugged him to a stop. “Look at me,” she said, and he obeyed on another little sigh. “I have you, yeah? I don’t want anyone else. I mean, how would anyone compete with your two penises?”

“’Penes,’” the Doctor told her, “is the plural of penises.”

“Sure it’s not ‘penii’?”

“Positive,” he said.

She chuckled and leaned up and nibbled on his lips. “Take me home and shag me,” she said.

***

“I’m telling you,” Sam persisted. “There was something off about those two.”

Dean rolled his eyes as they trudged through the field. The moon was caught behind clouds, and it was hard to see. He was trying to concentrate, and Sam kept wanting to talk about the couple at the diner. “I know, Sam. I heard you the first five thousand times. What do you want me to say?”

“’You can still see the outline of the bullet, just over his heart’?” Sam quoted the words Rose had told Dean. “I can’t believe you bought that.”

“I didn’t buy it,” Dean denied, although he had, because, well, Rose had been _really_ hot. “I just, you know, didn’t think it was worth pushing it.”

“A werewolf suddenly starts wreaking havoc in a town, and a weird, British chick suddenly shows up in the same town, and you didn’t think it was worth pushing it?”

“Sammy,” said Dean, in exasperation. “Werewolves don’t look like that.”

“How do you know? Werewolves could look like anyth—”

The moon had come out. A distant howl cut Sam off. He and Dean looked at each other, and then went tearing off toward the werewolf.

***

The Doctor was following some reading on his sonic that Rose didn’t understand but it had him running full-tilt, and Rose was sprinting behind him, clutching the silver-bullet-loaded gun that they’d brought along. Rose wasn’t terribly confident of her ability to fire the thing accurately but she was willing to at least give it a try if necessary.

The Doctor drew up at an old, clearly abandoned farmhouse. The front door was open. The moon glinted off the Doctor’s wide brown eyes, as he stared at the darkness of the house’s front hall. Rose knew that look. She knew a million thoughts were racing through his head, weighing all his options. Rose waited.

“I don’t like the going in the house,” he said, finally.

“Good,” said Rose. “Neither do I. So what’s our plan?”

“At least, not through the front door,” continued the Doctor. “Maybe we ought to go around.” He nodded in the direction of a corner of the house.

Rose nodded, and, gun at the ready, followed the Doctor around the corner. He immediately made a muffled exclamation and then stumbled backward. Rose raised the gun, alarmed, but found herself looking down the barrel at…

“Dean,” she said, in surprise, lowering her gun.

He had a similar gun pointed at her, which he also lowered in evident surprise. “Rose,” he said, and then suddenly raised the gun at her again.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Doctor snarled, stepping in between them.

“There’s a werewolf around here,” Dean answered.

“Yes,” snapped the Doctor. “And it’s obviously not us; we’re standing here in moonlight.”

There was a moment, and then Dean lowered the gun and looked at the man standing next to him. “It’s a good point.”

The other man shook his head. “I still think this is suspicious. What are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same question of you,” retorted the Doctor. “There’s a lupine-wavelength haemovariform in that house—”he flung his arm out—“and I really strongly suggest you two get out of here.”

“Yeah? Well, we suggest _you_ get out of here,” said Dean. There was a beat. “Hang on, what’s in that house?”

“No offense,” contributed Rose, kindly, “but you’re in a bit over your head, mate.”

“Yeah?” said the man next to Dean. “We think _you’re_ the ones in over your head, world-famous plastic surgeon.”

“Who’re you?” Rose demanded.

“This is my brother Sam,” said Dean.

“Excellent,” said the Doctor. “Sam, Dean, so lovely to meet you, but I’ve got a lupine-wavelength haemovariform who needs a tummy tuck, so, gentlemen, if you’ll just excuse us—”

“No way,” said Sam. “We need to get rid of that werewolf before he kills any more people. And who are _you_?”

“I’m the Doctor,” he said.

“Doctor what?”

“Just—”

There was a howl and a scuffling from inside the house. The Doctor held up his sonic screwdriver.

“What the hell is that?” asked Dean.

“I don’t have time for this,” said the Doctor. “Just…stay out of my way.” The Doctor went dashing off, Rose at his heels.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“I told you,” Sam said. “They are _weird_.”

“Shut up,” said Dean.

***

The Doctor had no idea where Sam and Dean had gone, and decided he didn’t care so long as they didn’t interfere. The Doctor chose a window and sonicked it open, and, after peering through it to make sure it was safe, stuck his sonic in his mouth and hoisted himself up and through it. He turned and helped Rose up through the window as well, and they stood, letting their eyes get used to the dusty gloom of the room. It was clear there was no werewolf in the room; but it was also clear there was definitely a werewolf in the house.

“Okay?” the Doctor whispered at her.

She nodded, and he squeezed her hand before moving forward, watching his sonic closely. Rose followed behind, clutching her gun and looking cautiously around them for any movement.

The ceiling above them creaked. The Doctor froze, then walked confidently out of the room and toward the staircase. He paused at the bottom, looking up it. He felt Rose draw to a stop next to him.

And then the wolf appeared, moving with a lithe elegance over to the top of the stairs. It gazed down at them and growled.

“Listen,” said the Doctor, urgently. “Listen to me. I know you don’t belong here. I know this isn’t your world. I can help you get back. I promise.”

The wolf stopped growling. It breathed, heavily, looking down at them. The Doctor held his breath, waiting for some sort of sign.

And then, suddenly, two gunshots sounded in quick succession. The wolf howled, hideously and horribly, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

There was a moment of silence. The Doctor could hear all the humans around him breathing. Then he rounded on them. “What did you do that for?”

“Hey,” said Sam. “We just saved your lives.”

“It wasn’t going to kill us!” he cried. “It was going to come with us! I was going to save it! I told you to stay out of this!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” said Dean. “I think you’re delusional.”

The Doctor muttered something under his breath and briefly pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m not delusional, you bloody…Oh, _amateurs_. I do wish you’d leave things to the professionals.”

“We _are_ professionals!” Sam protested.

“Ah, yes, but professional _what_?” asked the Doctor.

“And what are you, anyway? Are you an angel, too?” said Dean.

“An angel?” echoed the Doctor, blankly.

“Yeah. Messy hair, long trenchcoat. You angels all have a type, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Weeping Angels?”

“No, angels of the Lord,” said Dean, scathingly.

“Ha!” barked the Doctor. “There’s a Lord involved here, but not the Lord you’re thinking.” He turned to Rose. “Let’s go. Before they decide to shoot us, too.”

“That’s not what we do, you know,” said Sam. “We’re not…We’re trying to save people!” he called after them, but they did not turn back.

***

“Going on a trip?”

Dean looked up from where he’d just thrown a bag into the trunk of the Impala. It was bright outside, and he had to squint to see Rose. She had a hand up over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. He turned away from her, closing the trunk. “I thought you and your magical plastic surgeon would be long-gone by now.”

“He wanted to make sure that the lupine-wavelength haemovariform really was gone. And I wanted to come and, well, apologize a bit. I know you were just doing what you thought you had to do, but we had it covered, we really did. We would have kept the lupine-wavelength haemovariform from killing anyone else, you could have trusted us.”

“Rosie, in my experience, people can very seldom take care of themselves when they’re facing something like a lupine-wavelength—I don’t know why you keep calling it that, it’s a werewolf.” Dean leaned against the car. There was a moment of silence. “So what’s your real story?”

Rose shrugged.

“No, uh, bullet outlined over the heart, huh?” he ventured.

“No,” she smiled, and Dean tried not to look too disappointed about that.

“But the two of you are…?”

“Yeah. That part of the story was true.”

“Well.” Dean straightened. “It would have been nice to go werewolf-hunting together. Wish I’d known you were that type of girl.”

Rose grinned. “Oh, Dean, I’m so many types of girl.”

“Hello, Rose,” said the Doctor, coming up to them. “Buttering parsnips again? Is this your ride?” He tipped his head and surveyed the car. “Nice. Mine’s nicer, but then, you know…” The Doctor shrugged an eloquent shoulder, as if to say, _Mine will always be nicer_. He looked at Rose. “We need milk. Didn’t want to leave before we stocked up.”

“Is that a hint?”

“No. Just an observation.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thanks,” she said, clearly surprised and pleased that he was out there apologizing. She’d suggested it to him, and he’d resisted, and he still wasn’t quite sure why he had relented.

“Yeah,” he said, and watched her walk off, then turned to Dean, who was still watching her walk off. The Doctor cleared his throat firmly.

Dean took his eyes off Rose’s retreating form hastily. “Sorry, you’re just a…lucky man.”

“Mmm,” said the Doctor. “Anyway, I wanted to…Sometimes I can be…I should have explained things to you, what I was doing. It would have helped.” This was what Rose had told him, back in the TARDIS the night before. “It just…isn’t often people…question my authority.” Another point Rose had made.

“And it’s not often we run into people we can trust to handle things like that, so we probably didn’t…you know.”

The Doctor decided this was as good a conversation as they were really going to have. “Well. If we run into each other again, then we’ll not make the same mistakes, I suppose,” he suggested, lightly.

“So you really do stuff like this, huh?” Dean asked, suddenly. “Chase werewolves around? Ghosts, demons, stuff like that?”

The Doctor considered. “I suppose, yes. In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“And she goes with you?”

“Yeah.”

Dean shook his head a bit. “You really _are_ lucky.”

“I know,” said the Doctor. Sam was walking across the parking lot to them, holding two cups of coffee and looking confused. The Doctor nodded toward him. “Did you say he’s your brother?”

“Yeah,” Dean affirmed.

“So we’re even.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re pretty lucky, too, wouldn’t you say? Having a brother? See you around.” He walked away before Dean could quite react to that, and Dean heard him say, “Good morning,” to Sam cheerfully as he passed him.

Sam reached Dean, turned back to look quizzically at where the Doctor had met up with Rose, who was carrying a grocery bag and waved at them before taking the Doctor’s hand. “What was that all about?” Sam asked.

“I have no idea,” replied Dean. “Let’s go.”

He walked around to the driver’s side of the car and pulled the door open.

“You know what I’m wondering?” said Sam, as he settled into the passenger seat.

“What’s that?”

“Did he really have the outline of a bullet over his heart? I mean, I was _so sure_ he was a plastic surgeon with an outline of a bullet over his heart, but now that it’s clear he’s not a plastic surgeon, I’m beginning to really question whether the rest of the girl’s story was true or not—”

“Shut up,” said Dean. Sam laughed, and Dean turned on the car. “It’s just that she was _convincing_ ,” Dean defended himself.

“Yeah, she had convincing lips.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling as he replied, “It’s true!”

“And a convincing ass,” continued Sam.

“Shut up,” said Dean again. But he laughed as he shifted the car into drive.

 

 

  



End file.
